Count On Me
by mezzo88
Summary: Set three weeks after the events of Count To Ten. "I love you." Oh. So that's what a panic attack feels like.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** this is the sequel to Count To Ten. It's set three weeks after the events of Count To Ten. I still don't own anything.

**Count On Me**

**Chapter 1**

"_It's emotional, and I told you so; but you had to know, so I told you…" – Look Around, The Red Hot Chili Peppers_

_10…seconds that feel like ages…_

_9…oh the suspense…_

_8…eyes closed, eyes closed…_

_7…missis-_

_6…_

_5…"full seconds, Rachel" she said…_

_4…easy for her…I'm the one who-_

_3…has a trauma from counting…_

_2…Ha! And now…_

"One!", Rachel shouted.

"One?", Quinn asked, her arms crossed in front of her and a skeptical look on her face.

"Where's my surprise?", Rachel ignored her, trying to look behind the blonde and find the reason for her secretiveness. Wasn't there supposed to be a surprise? She'd been forbidden to enter the kitchen in her own house – _do not enter under any circumstances_, Quinn had said – and sure, that _could be_ because she'd nearly set the stove on fire a few days ago; but she hadn't even been allowed to get something to drink for the last three hours. That meant a surprise for her was in the workings, right? There had been other signs, too: a charming smile, a nervous instruction to close her eyes and count to ten…Wait, why did Quinn grin at her like that?

"One?", Quinn asked again.

"Ten seconds, you said", Rachel defended herself.

"Count to ten, I said", Quinn countered.

"So I may have counted backwards", Rachel admitted. "One seems like a stop. Ten seems like infinity…Why is that funny?", she demanded, narrowing her eyes at the blonde who was now shaking with laughter. "Stop laughing at me right this instant, Quinn Fabray."

"I'm sorry, it's just…I know you're impatient. Ten seconds is a long time to make you wait", Quinn smiled. "It's just…infinity? What, were you afraid you'd count too far? I'm sure counting to ten is manageable for someone your age, Rachel. Especially someone as…focused…as you."

Crossing her arms over her chest, the brunette considered this. Maybe it was a little bit funny. She _was_ focused. That was a miracle, though, with two fathers who were constantly distracted and…wait. Distracted?

"Santana told you!", she accused, remembering losing the chance of arranging a musical program to Kurt because of the Latina's stare.

"Santana told me what?", Quinn asked, confused about the subject change.

"That I counted to eleven because she distracted me with-" She cut herself off, noticing the curious look on Quinn's face. "Santana didn't tell you."

"No", Quinn said slowly. "But now I really want to know."

"It's nothing", Rachel waved off.

"It's not nothing", the blonde insisted. "When did you count to eleven? And what did Santana distract you with?"

"It's not important, Quinn", Rachel maintained.

"If you don't tell me, you won't get your surprise", Quinn threatened.

"But that would make me very sad", Rachel pouted.

"That pout is getting you nowhere", Quinn said, but her resolve waivered. Rachel's pout was too cute for words.

"Very, _very_ sad", the diva drawled, trying to look past the blonde and into the kitchen.

"Tell me or no surprise", Quinn held her ground, shifting slightly and effectively blocking Rachel's view.

"Okay, I give up", the petite girl sighed.

"So you'll tell me?", Quinn asked, slightly surprised Rachel wasn't putting up more of a fight. She'd never won an argument with the diva this easily.

"No, I'm passing up the surprise", Rachel explained.

"Wow, you really don't want to tell me", Quinn said, astonishment evident in her voice.

"Maybe I just don't really care about the surprise – especially if it's tied to conditions", Rachel replied coolly.

"There weren't any conditions until you started being difficult!", Quinn exclaimed.

"So this is your way of punishing me?"

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm difficult so I don't deserve a surprise?"

"I never said that!"

"It sure sounded like it!"

"What's going on with you? You're making a scene over nothing!"

"And you're withholding my surprise!"

"I wasn't going to until you-"

"Started being difficult. Yes, you already said that. Got nothing new to add?"

"You're drama queen!"

"And you're insensitive!"

And then, at the same time:

"Insensitive? I made you mushroom and eggplant cakes!"

"Drama queen? Nice way to describe your girlfriend!"

For a while, it was dead silent. Rachel was the first to recover. "A vegan dish?"

Quinn was only a few seconds behind. "Girlfriend?"

"You really made me a vegan dish? You hate cooking. And you hate vegan stuff", Rachel whispered.

"You're my girlfriend now? I thought you wanted to go slow. I thought I was way ahead of you in the feelings department", Quinn whispered back.

"I guess we're both more invested in this relationship than we thought", Rachel said.

"Relationship…", Quinn said.

"Did I break you?", Rachel asked, taking a step closer. When Quinn didn't reply, she pulled the girl into a hug. "Yes, girlfriend. Yes, relationship. Are you okay with that?"

"More than okay", Quinn grinned. "Much more than okay. You make me so happy, Rachel." And then she kissed her girlfriend.

* * *

><p>"This is the most romantic thing I've ever heard", Brittany sighed dreamily.<p>

"It's also not true", Santana pointed out.

"Why? Because you don't think Quinn can be romantic?", Rachel asked.

"Oh, she can. Disgustingly so", Santana snorted. "But your story's still just that: a story. Written and directed by Rachel Berry, produced in fantasy land. I'm sure."

"Why, San?"

"Because Rachel's here and Quinn isn't, that's why", the Latina said, gesturing around her. _Here_ was Brittany's room, a shrill and chaotic hiding place Rachel had, as far as she knew, never stepped foot in before.

"San, I don't think-"

"No, she's right", Rachel cut her off. "Well, not completely. It did happen the way I told you, except that after I called her insensitive, she stormed out. And when I called her to apologize, she told me to grow up, decide what I want and leave her alone until I do." Her voice was breaking when she said this, and tears started to fall.

"But it totally could have happened the way you told it", Brittany soothed. "I believed you."

It was a comforting thing to hear; despite the fact that it came from someone who also believed that Dr. Pepper was a real doctor.

"Maybe it could have happened that way", Rachel said, "if I hadn't been picking fights for a week now. I know I've been difficult. I just can't seem to help it. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Grant's back at school", Santana offered. "And I heard you crossed paths with Stacey. How did that go, by the way?"

"It was uneventful", Rachel shrugged. "She didn't say anything, and I know better than to…" She trailed off, not really knowing how to continue.

"You know better than to what?", Santana asked, never one to leave sore points untouched. Tact was for people who were afraid of hurting others, and while she wasn't as heartless as she liked to pretend, she also believed some things were worth the hurt. Especially something as unpredictable as the truth.

"This is a conversation I should be having with Quinn", Rachel said, but it was more because she wanted the Latina to shut up and less because she actually planned to talk to Quinn about it.

"But she's not talking to you", Santana said, already expecting the slap on the arm she received from Brittany the second the words left her mouth. Giving her girlfriend a look that clearly said _behave_, the blonde turned to Rachel. "She doesn't really want you to leave her alone. She just wants to understand."

Fresh tears made their way down the diva's cheeks. "I'm not sure I understand it myself." That was a lie.

"Then figure it the hell out", Santana ordered.

"It's not that easy. Ever since our project-"

"_Your_ project", the Latina cut her off.

"That _you_ suggested", Rachel argued.

"It got you the girl", Santana shrugged.

"So you only take credit for the good part?", the petite brunette asked.

"Of course. Who else should get credit? I did all the work – you were only along for the ride", Santana said, throwing her arms up in the air. "God knows you two would still be having awkward hallway conversations if it hadn't been for me."

"That's…ridiculous." Rachel's mood quickly went from sad to angry. She guessed the Latina had that effect on a lot of people.

"Is it? For a girl who does everything in her power to get what she wants, you've been pretty apathetic about your relationship with Quinn."

Rachel groaned. She could already feel the headache building. "If you say one word about cat calendars, I might have to jump off a bridge." First Quinn, now Santana. When had her obsessive passion become something people _desired_? "You're being mean and I don't want to talk to you anymore."

"I'm just calling it as I see it."

"Yeah? I had planned to take Quinn star-gazing this weekend. What do you call that?"

"I'll be calling it self-defense, soon."

"What?" And there was the headache.

"She means she's going to beat you up and it will be your own fault", Brittany informed her. Then, she frowned. "But that's not nice. San, be nice!"

"Why would you beat me up for taking Quinn on a date?", Rachel asked, honestly confused at the turn their conversation had taken.

"Star-gazing? That's exactly what I was talking about!", Santana exclaimed. "Why aren't you planning anything absurd? Something other people would shake their head at? You haven't sung her an embarrassing love song. You haven't filled her locker with pictures of you. You haven't glued yourself to her. You're acting completely…normal."

"I think I'm lost", Rachel said helplessly.

"You're not normal", Santana stated.

Rachel was up and in front of the Latina in seconds. Her angry eyes were staring straight at Santana's. "That's not-"

"It was supposed to be a compliment, Rachel", Brittany explained from her position on the bed, where she lay with Lord Tubbington on her belly.

Rachel seriously doubted that, but she took a step back from the taller brunette.

"Finish your sentence", Santana said calmly.

The diva took a deep breath. The word headache didn't even cover it anymore. "That's not a-"

"No, not that", Santana interrupted again. "Before, when you talked about counting to ten. Finish _that_ sentence."

But Rachel couldn't, and she had a feeling that Santana knew that. She had a feeling Santana knew exactly what was wrong with her. And that she found herself unable to voice what was going on in her head.

"You have a crush that you refuse to acknowledge. You start censoring yourself. Fate brings you together with the girl. You act like a toned-down version of yourself. An extremely toned down version. Your crush voices serious feelings for you. You're slapped. You're ridiculed. You become even more colorless. You start being deliberately difficult. Really, Rachel, you're not a puzzle. It's all there. And I'm not having a hard time piecing it together."

_Please don't say it_, Rachel prayed. This was already more than she could handle. She'd break if the Latina said it out loud. She knew. And _dear god_, if Santana knew, she really needed to talk to Quinn.

As she rushed out the door, she heard Santana say "That girl needs a therapist."

* * *

><p>"I don't think I understand", Quinn said. Rachel's dads were out and wouldn't be back until late. They had the house to themselves. They could take their time. And Rachel's message of "we need to talk" had been promising. Quinn didn't like fighting with the girl, and this had been their first big fight since they…got together? Agreed on having feelings for each other but taking things slow? What were they to each other? And what was going on with Rachel? She had hoped to get answers, but now she wasn't sure. Except for a timid greeting at the door, the request to go up to her room and a question on her well-being, Rachel hadn't said anything. For a long time. Until the words "I'm not normal" left her lips and immediately her hands flew up to cover her mouth and her eyes were widened in shock.<p>

Quinn got the impression that that was exactly what Rachel _hadn't_ wanted to say. "I don't understand", she repeated.

The brunette sighed, taking Quinn's hand in her own. "I don't know how to explain."

"That you're not normal?", Quinn asked, narrowing her eyes.

"No. Well, yes. I'm not normal, but that can be a good thing."

Quinn raised an eyebrow. Rachel had always said that she was different and that she embraced that, but her choice of words right then…it didn't sound like her at all. In fact…"You've been talking to Santana and Brittany."

"They helped me realize some things. Well, Santana did."

The other eyebrow went up, too. "That's a scary thought."

Rachel nodded. "You can say that again."

"So…" Quinn trailed off, not knowing where they were going with this.

"The past few weeks with you have been…"

"I really hope you're going to finish that with something positive", Quinn joked nervously.

"It's been amazing", Rachel said, not a trace of doubt in her voice.

Quinn smiled relieved. "Amazing", she agreed.

"But I haven't really been myself. Not completely."

"I noticed", the blonde nodded.

"So when we say that it's been amazing…is it despite of or because of?"

What? "What?"

She really didn't want to ask this, but…"Has it been amazing despite that fact that I've held parts of myself back or because of it?"

Quinn stared at her. "I told you I didn't want you to hold anything back."

"Answer the question." Or don't. Not if the answer is _because of_. "Do you need some time to think about it?" Do I need time to brace myself?

Quinn didn't need to think. "I've liked you even before you started toning yourself down….so it's despite of. And if you haven't noticed, the toned down version of you is much more difficult than the Rachel I used to know. I've never known you to pick fights or be this bitchy."

The first part was overjoying her, but the second…it wasn't nice to hear, but it was true. And logical. Her mood had definitely suffered during the weeks she'd tried to be more normal. "I guess I was easier to put up with when I was just obnoxious, loud, diva-like and bulldozing over everyone."

"That's not what I was saying and you know that", Quinn said, pulling Rachel closer. "Why do you suddenly think that who you are is anything less than amazing? What has you doubting yourself?"

"The incidents with Grant and Stacey are not enough?"

"For anyone else, yes. For you? No. And before you even think of telling me that you're not as strong as I think you are, let me remind you that even before, you hid parts of the real Rachel. So it's not just those two dumbasses."

Rachel scrunched up her nose, trying to figure out what exactly Quinn was talking about.

"Four weeks ago, right here in this room. I asked you why you didn't throw yourself into this relationship like you'd usually do."

Oh. "I remember", Rachel said. And really, it made perfect sense. It fit right into the picture Santana had painted and the realizations Rachel had come to about herself. Now she just needed to find a way to explain it to Quinn.

"Rachel, what do you feel for me?"

That was easy. "I like you. Really like you. More than just like you."

"Do you feel that way right now?"

"Yes."

"Okay. So do something with that feeling."

"I…I don't know…what…"

"This _more than just like you_ thing? I love it. I love saying it and I love hearing you say it. It's our thing. But if it's all you ever get? It doesn't sound as good."

What was…? Was Quinn asking her to tell her that she lo- was this what a panic attack felt like?

"I'm not asking you to tell me you, you know...I'd never pressure you to do that. These weeks with you _have_ been amazing, because you're still you, and you're just…you're sweet and wonderful and caring and talented and unique, even if you've become a little less hyper and a bit more touchy. I lo-like you just as much as before. All of you. No matter which sides you I get presented with next. I just want you to give me one thing other than that sentence that's _you_, the real Rachel Berry, that shows me this thing between us means something to you."

"I…" Oh god, oh god, oh god…

"Please", Quinn implored.

"I…I…" She couldn't take it anymore. And apparently, Quinn couldn't, either.

"I just don't get you. Why is this so hard? Write me a formal letter. Sing a show tune love song. Anything, Rachel. Make a stupid cat calendar, for heaven's sake!"

A cat calendar. Of course. At this rate, she was never going to get rid of her headache.

"We've talked about this. I think it's unbelievably endearing that you want me to go overboard like I usually do, but as I said, I'm not like that anymore."

"Since when? You're still like that, just not with me. Why can't you trust me? Why can't you let go when you're with me?"

There it was. The one million dollar question. Or, if she listened to Santana, the one hundred dollar per hour so I can pour my heart out to a professional question.

"I do trust you. And I do let go when I'm with you. I'm one hundred percent myself when I'm with you. Just with…boundaries."

"Lose the boundaries", Quinn said, having lost all her patience.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because then I'd tell you that I love you. And I wouldn't search for a song to sing to you, I'd write one. And I wouldn't formally ask you to be my girlfriend – at least I don't think there's anything formal about the clothes I bought for our next secret sleep-over. And I probably _would_ make you a stupid cat calendar. It would be big, because I would need space for our college plans."

"What? You…what?"

"I'd go overboard because that's how it's always been: my passion and my excitement is way ahead of my heart. I want to be with you. But Quinn, you can only fall in love so many times before you have to question the genuineness of your feelings."

"So you don't know if what you feel for me is real."

Laughing was an entirely inappropriate reaction and Rachel knew it, but there was really nothing she could do about it. "I do know. God, I know. And that's the scary part. Because you're right, it's not about anyone bullying me, telling me I'm a freak. It's not about Grant or Stacey. It's about you. It's about the fact that I'm so incredibly scared of losing you. And I do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Now that I have you, Quinn, I don't ever want to let you go."

Quinn looked overwhelmed and Rachel couldn't blame her. This happened when she let loose.

"But I…you didn't…I told you…I liked you before…"

"My head knows that. My heart…needs time to catch up. You need to realize that I never thought this could happen. I never thought you could like me."

"I…, god, I…"

The speechlessness was cute, but also unnerving. Quinn seemed to realize that. "I love you."

Hadn't she wondered what a panic attack felt like only a few minutes before? Now she knew.

"I love you. You said your heart needs to catch up, so I'm helping the process. I love you. All of you. Your quirks and you insecurities and the fact that you confuse and frustrate me. I'm in love with you."

Was the room spinning?

"Look at me, Rachel. I love _you_."

And Rachel looked. And then she stopped thinking about panic attacks, stopped thinking altogether, and decided that, to hell with it all, she was just going to _be_. The widest grin took over her face.

"You're sleeping in my room tonight. Go find a movie to watch. I have a calendar to make."

**A/N: I know this chapter doesn't say anything about people finding out about them at the end of CTT. Don't worry – the next chapter focuses on that. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for all your alerts, subscriptions and reviews. I had so much fun writing this chapter, which is a little bit weird, considering it deals with worst-case-scenarios…but in a funny way. I think.

**Count On Me**

**Chapter 2**

Rachel looked around her basement and cringed. She'd have to do some serious cleaning undercover-mission-style before her dads came home. Or some serious explaining if they returned home earlier than planned. Either way, she would not be able to fall into bed anytime soon like her limbs screamed at her to do. Her friends really were slobs.

But she loved them, and when they'd decided to do a get-together and found all of their houses unavailable, she'd happily offered hers. Apparently, she'd learned nothing from the last home party extravaganza. No, that wasn't true. This time, there was no alcohol. At least none she knew of – her friends were acting a little bit too wild for her to not suspect the presence of alcohol. She was okay with that – some things had changed, some things hadn't. They still did karaoke. They still danced until the simply couldn't any longer (which explained her aching limbs). But this time, when she called Quinn "girlfriend", the blonde's smile and response wasn't forced. And this time, they stayed away from spin the bottle.

Quinn. Her girlfriend Quinn. _That_ was a baffling thought. How were they even working? How could this relationship be anything else than a bad joke? They'd been enemies, then tentative friends, then back to enemies. Then things were just awkward for a while. And then Santana, of all people, decided to meddle and made Rachel believe she'd be better off censoring herself. Quinn sang her a song. Rachel didn't react. Quinn was upset. Rachel apologized. They got closer. Rachel was slapped. Quinn went overprotective. Rachel was publicly humiliated. Quinn was frustrated at her for forgiving too easily. They voiced romantic feelings for each other. Rachel became insecure and bitchy. They fought. Santana – again, of all people – convinced her that a talk with Quinn was in order. Rachel explained her feelings. Quinn proclaimed her love. Rachel did, too. And now here they were, surrounded by their Glee club, partying in her basement, singing and dancing, doing shadow plays against a wall – what the hell had Noah spiked the punch with? And really, how in the hell were they working?

"Rach, come here", Quinn said, pulling the smaller girl into her lap and hugging her from behind. Rachel leaned back, inhaling her girlfriend's scent, immediately calmed. "I love you", the blonde whispered.

_This_ was how they were working. Love made everything work, Rachel whole-heartedly believed that. And the love she felt for Quinn, the love she received from Quinn…it was stronger than anything she had ever known. It was better than being on stage and receiving standing ovations. "I love you, too", she whispered back. Yeah, this was how things worked out. But still…they were a disaster waiting to happen. Rachel knew it. And Quinn did, too.

"My mother finds out about us and throws me out of the house again", the blonde said.

"Nice one", Noah commented.

Rachel nodded. It was a weird conversation to have, but no one seemed to care. Kurt's question of _What else could happen now?_ had turned into a list of things their relationship might be confronted with in the near future. It was what had triggered Rachel's pondering. It was also funny in a very masochistic way.

"I never win a Tony", she offered.

"Way to think worst-case, babe", Quinn smiled. "You think you could deal with that?"

"As long as I have you. True love conquers everything – even the most depressing failures."

"You're sweet."

"You're disgusting", Santana threw in. "How about that one: one of you cheats on the other with Puck."

"Maybe not _everything_", Rachel grimaced. "Sorry, babe."

"It's okay", Quinn said, giving her a kiss. "If you ever touch him again, I'll break up with you faster than you can say Barbra Streisand."

They both laughed, snuggling into each other.

"People at school find out about you", Mercedes quickly suggested before Noah could realize that the two girls were laughing about the possibility of sleeping with him. It would break his heart. Or something. "And they start bullying you." Then, with a look at Rachel, she added "Even more."

Quinn shook her head. "No."

"Why not?", Rachel wanted to know.

"Because the list is supposed to only contain stuff that is worst-case but that we're still sure we can handle", Quinn explained.

"How is that not worst-case? Or are you not sure you can handle it?" Santana looked worried when she said this, showing emotion for once. It was a testament to how comfortable she felt around her friends. Or a testament to the spiked punch.

"Oh, we can handle it. Right, Quinn?", Rachel answered, pecking her girlfriend on the lips.

"Right", Quinn agreed. "It doesn't go on the list because it's not worst-case. Most people at school already know, and nothing much has changed."

"Uh, Quinn, I hate to tell you this, but…", Sam trailed off, obviously too scared of Quinn's reaction to what he was going to say to finish his sentence.

"What?", she asked, looking at the slightly uncomfortable faces of her friends. "They saw us kissing after Stacey's little show. Surely that has tipped them off?"

"Listen, Q, there really isn't…" Even Brittany didn't want to say it.

Rachel rolled her eyes. Quinn wasn't _that_ scary. "What our dear friends are too afraid to tell you is that everyone thinks the kiss was some kind of post-traumatic stress thing."

"What?", Quinn exclaimed, unceremoniously shoving Rachel off of her. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I thought you knew", Rachel shrugged, giving the blonde a pointed look. Quinn blushed, pulled Rachel back on top of her and mouthed _sorry_.

"So no one really thinks we're together? But we spend so much time together! We sit next to each other in every class now! We have lunch together! I walk you to your locker!"

"PTSD doesn't go away over night…", Kurt mumbled, obviously torn between feeling amused at the stupidity of their peers and offended on behalf of his friends.

"My relationship with Rachel has nothing to do with PTSD!", Quinn shouted. "It's not…I can't even…" Quinn looked helplessly at Rachel.

"I know, babe", the brunette said, kissing her cheek.

"We know that, too", Finn supported. "It's just a hard concept to grasp. You two were enemies and then-"

"That was then, this is now", Rachel interrupted. She really didn't need a repeat of the facts she herself had wondered about only a short time ago. "And what other people think about us doesn't matter. At all. They'll get the message when we're still together when we graduate and make our way out of Lima together."

At that, Quinn smiled widely, pulling Rachel even closer. "You're right."

"I usually am", Rachel grinned.

"So…", Tina started nervously.

"The list?", Noah prompted.

"Finn decides he wants either Quinn or Rachel back and tries to come between them", Brittany said.

"No", Quinn and Rachel disagreed at the same time.

"Not worst-case?", Kurt asked.

"I guess that depends on how you look at it", Rachel shrugged.

"Hey!", Finn yelled, getting the feeling he was being insulted.

"I have one", Santana smiled evilly. "You have sex together for the first time and both suck at it because you have no idea what you're doing."

"That's highly improbable", Rachel said unconcernedly, "But okay."

Quinn was busy shooting daggers at the Latina with her eyes when she realized what Rachel had said. "It goes on the list?", she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Well, _both_ of us sucking at sex would be kind of worst-case, but it's nothing we can't handle. We'll just learn together."

"That's not…okay, whatever." She really didn't want to talk about this with all so many people around them. "I have another one: Stacey and/or Grant come back for round two and I'm suspended for beating them up." With a look at her friends' faces, she amended: "We all get suspended for beating them up."

"Worst-case would be thrown off school. Or thrown into jail", Noah said.

"You would know", Mercedes snorted.

Rachel laughed. "Okay, we'll take that one."

"You'd be able to handle that?", Sam questioned.

"I'd visit you all regularly. Well, I'd visit Quinn regularly. The rest of you would get cookies and sporadic visits", Rachel explained.

"How come I don't get cookies?", Quinn frowned.

"How come you're not in jail with us?", Brittany asked.

"I refrain from using physical violence", Rachel said. "And you would be getting much more than just cookies for defending my honor", she smiled at Quinn.

"Typical", Kurt muttered.

"That Rachel's being all pacifist or that Quinn gets the goodies?"

"Goodies?"

"Did you just…?"

"I want regular visits."

"I want cookies."

"And goodies."

"Stay away from my girlfriend."

"Stay away from my cookies."

"You all need to stay away from the punch", Rachel said sternly. "And as fun as this has been, we should really-"

"Jacob Ben Israel put you on his blog", Artie suddenly made his presence known.

"That's far from worst-case and anyway, I think we're done with the list", Quinn waved him off.

"No, I mean, Jacob Ben Israel just posted something about you on his blog", Artie stressed, holding up his phone.

"Oh well, how bad can it be?", Rachel off-handedly asked.

"_There have been rumors about our resident head bitch in charge and the star of McKinley's Glee club and I know you've all been wondering if they really did embark on a romantic relationship or if their kiss in the hallways a few weeks back was simply a display of PTSD_", Artie read aloud.

"It's not that bad", Quinn said, cautious hope in her voice. "So everyone finds out. Big deal. We've already talked about this."

"Yeah", Rachel agreed. "We have all worst-case scenarios on our list. Nothing we can't handle."

"_I decided to find out the truth from a reliable source_", Artie continued reading. "_So I went to interview Shelby Corcoran. After all, mother knows best, right?_"

Well, shit. That was not on the list.

"Oh my god", Quinn breathed.

Rachel just stared. She was stunned into silence. What had that dumb pseudo paparazzo done? "That's…still not that bad, right? I mean, she gave me to my fathers. She's not homophobe. Sure it's a little bit strange with the family relations, but…she's not going to…we don't even know what she said about this…Artie…"

"He just goes on saying that she was shocked and refused any comment", Artie relayed apologetically.

"She's going to be okay with it", Rachel said determinedly. She received a chorus of agreement, but the uneasy feeling remained, and Quinn wasn't looking at her. "She's going to be okay with it", Rachel repeated, directing her words at her girlfriend.

"She just allowed me to see Beth…I can't…" Quinn obviously didn't know how to deal with this news. Was her relationship to her daughter put in danger?

"Look, we can-"

The loud banging of a door cut her off, and she quickly looked to the stairway. Sure enough, a few seconds later the door to the basement opened, and revealed her fathers.

"Good evening", Hiram greeted.

"This is a surprise", Leroy said.

"Dad, daddy…"

"Mr. and Mr. Berry…"

"We didn't know you had friends over. You didn't ask our permission." Hiram crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's time for your friends to go", Leroy added.

"There are some things we need to talk about."

Rachel felt Quinn tremble next to her.

"Like not inviting anyone over without telling us."

"And the phone call we just received from Shelby Corcoran."

**A/N: So…want to know what happens next?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** dear smartblonde317: I'm not going to "kill stupid Shelby" – but I like your way of thinking. I'm not a fan of her.

**Author's Note 2:** It is NOT my fault this update took so long. The doc manager wouldn't let me upload anything for the last five days. No idea why. Maybe the fact that I was a bit bitchy these last couple of days gave me bad karma.

**Count On Me**

**Chapter 3**

Death by strangulation? No, too brutal. Not to mention physically exhausting.

Death by busted eardrums, caused by a high-pitched scream? No, she had perfected her high notes, but she was not a banshee.

Death by falling – being _pushed_ - from a flight of stairs? That could work. Except that he could survive. That was not an option.

Death by Vodoo doll? Different method, same problem. Santana had one of her, and she was still alive.

Death by car crash? Scratch that. She didn't want any collateral damage.

It was really difficult to decide; but no matter what, Jacob Ben Israel was a dead man. No, no, he wasn't a _man_. He was a worm. A nuisance. A jerk. Well, whatever he was, he was dead. Santana had already offered her services before she'd been ushered out the door with the rest of the Glee club. Quinn would surely want to have a part in it if things with Shelby went bad. Their friends would cover for them. But none of that was important, because Rachel was going to be the first one to hit him over the head with a shovel. Oh. _That _was an idea.

Sure, it was possible that she was working herself up over nothing. Did she care? Not in the least. Because even if nothing came from Jacob's stupid blog post, even if Shelby had just called to congratulate them, even if her dads just wanted to talk about how glad they were that Quinn and her had found each other…even if they all were going to be one big happy family, she'd still have to make the gossip-monger suffer. Because it was his fault that Quinn was currently disturbingly close to a very real and very scary panic attack; and that was simply unacceptable. Rachel would never tolerate anyone making her girlfriend feel this way. So Jacob Ben Israel's days were counted.

Death by rusty shovel.

Death by Rachel Berry.

It wouldn't be pretty.

"So, let's talk about this", Hiram said. He and Leroy were sitting on the couch together, Quinn and Rachel on stools in front of them. Rachel worried that Quinn might fall from her seat with all the trembling she was doing and placed a hand on her knee, ignoring the look her fathers shot her. This was not the time to placate her parents. This was the time to comfort her freaked out girlfriend.

"What did Shelby call about?", she asked innocently. It was useless to pretend, really. With her eyes nervously darting around, her lips pressed tightly together and her whole body fidgeting, Quinn was doing a good job of confessing to every sin she had ever committed without saying anything. But Rachel still had hope, and she wasn't going to tip her hand.

"Apparently, there's this blog…"

Yep. Dead guy.

"We are concerned, girls. We knew you'd gotten close, and we're fine with your relationship as long as you're both happy-"

"But it would have been nice to be informed about this by our daughter, and not Shelby Corcoran", Leroy cut his husband off.

Well, if this was what they were so angry about – and the anger practically screamed at her from their expressions – then maybe Quinn's eyes and hands and mouth could go back to working properly, soon. Rachel knew exactly how to do damage control when secrets came out.

"I'm sorry", she sincerely said, and Quinn nodded. "I realize it was improper to keep this from you. I promise to be open about our relationship from now on. I wasn't intentionally keeping us a secret from you. At least not in a bad way. We just wanted to enjoy this without outside influence for a while." That, and people outside of Glee club knowing posed obstacles they had only just discussed.

"We understand that", Hiram nodded. "And we're not angry."

They weren't? Well, they sure as hell _looked_ angry. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it was obvious. If they weren't angry about their secrecy, then…

"What did Shelby tell you?", Quinn asked. Rachel was relieved that her girlfriend hadn't gone completely mute, but the question made her fears rise again.

"She's…not happy about this development. She doesn't…she said some things about family relations and influence and role models", Leroy informed them, clearly upset with the conversation.

"Quinn, you should talk to her. It's just…with Beth…you should really talk to her", Hiram concluded.

Of course they were angry about Shelby, or rather, Shelby's reaction. Things just couldn't be easy for them, could they? Influence and role models? What did that even mean? They weren't corrupt – they were in love. Did Shelby disagree with their relationship? If she did, what did that mean for Quinn and Beth? Nothing good.

Apparently, Quinn had realized this too, and in a flash, she was up and running out of them room.

"Quinn!", Rachel shouted, following after the blonde. "Quinn!" But she was already out the front door, and quickly getting in her car, driving off before Rachel could reach her.

Defeated, Rachel stood in the entrance, her shoulders slumped.

"Honey…", Hiram said from behind her.

"I'm going to bed", she stated, rushing past her fathers up to her room. She needed time alone. She needed to think.

"Yes, sleep will be good now. Good night!", Leroy called after her.

Sleep. Sure. Sleep was the last thing on her mind. She didn't have time for sleeping. She had a murder to plan.

The next day found the Glee club shooting worried glances at each other all day, Quinn MIA, Jacob Dead Man Israel still alive, and Rachel on a warpath.

"What exactly is your problem?"

"Excuse me?", Shelby asked, turning from the board she had been writing on and facing her daughter.

"What exactly is your problem?", Rachel repeated, her tone icy.

"If you're referring to-"

"I'm referring to your conversation with my fathers yesterday", Rachel interrupted, not wanting to beat around the bush. Quinn hadn't answered her calls. She'd even driven to her house to check on her, make her talk to her, but Judy's car had been in the driveway, and they really didn't need more complications. She'd then talked to Santana who had informed the rest of the Glee club, but no one had been able to reach Quinn. It was a mess.

What else was she supposed to do but confront Shelby?

"Maybe you want to tell me about you and Quinn first", Shelby replied. "I didn't appreciate finding out about you like that."

"Like what?"

"Being ambushed with questions in between classes by a wannabe paparazzo."

"I didn't realize it was any of your business", Rachel told her.

"I'm you mother", Shelby countered.

"Biologically speaking", Rachel shot back.

Shelby sighed. "Biologically, yes. And biologically, Quinn is Beth's mother. But Beth's my daughter, too, which makes her your sister. And with you and Quinn as girlfriends, the family tree looks…well, incestuous, really."

"Quinn and I are not related. We don't share the same blood", Rachel defended.

"You don't share any blood with your fathers, either", Shelby reminded her.

That was low blow, and Rachel virtually took a step back at the words. Was Shelby going to insult every one of her relationships now? Well, two could play that game.

"You don't get to have a say in who I date. Actually, you don't have a say in anything I do. You wanted to admire me from afar, remember that?"

"I came back. We sang a song together. You forgave me!" Was there a hint of desperation in her voice?

"Yes. But what does that mean for us? Does it even mean anything? The people I love most in this world are not related to me by blood. The one who is has hurt me more than anyone else ever has. What does that mean, huh?"

Apparently, Shelby didn't have an answer to that. And so she did what most people do when they're cornered: lash out and try to get their way. "I don't want you to see Quinn anymore. You guys can be friends. But if Quinn wants to continue seeing Beth, you better not be more."

And the only thing Rachel could say to that was a hissed "Fuck you". Furious, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. While Shelby stood in her classroom, completely still, mouth hanging open form shock, Rachel sank against a row of lockers and breathed deeply. She needed to do something. She needed to change Shelby's mind. She needed to ask Santana on how to beat someone up without breaking your own limbs. She needed to find Quinn. Hug Quinn. Kiss Quinn.

This was far from over, and they were going to come out of it as winners. She was going to make sure of it.


End file.
